Born To Write

There is a bridge that connects two places. Two places that are different but the same. Both in the same city but on separate sides of the street. I have walked this bridge and it is unlike any other I have or probably ever will travel over.

I had been working in a candy store on the bottom floor of a building. It was only a three-story brick building built in the 1940s. It was a fun place to work, and working in an old building gave me a sense I was connected to the past.

Every day I walked to work I would be in awe of the old buildings in the area, especially the one across the street. It was an identical-looking building and it was connected to the one I worked in with an enclosed bridge. I always thought to myself, “ I wonder what is in that building.”

I would ask my coworkers and they would tell me it was supposedly haunted or the bridge wasn’t safe so I shouldn’t go over there. I was a curious young man and decided I would stay late one night and after work cross that bridge…I had no fear.

Later that night as we were closing up I volunteered to finish things up so everyone could get out of there and made my way to the third floor. I needed to cross this bridge to the other side of the street.

When I found the entrance to the bridge I was surprised at how well maintained it was. It even looked as though it was regularly cleaned. I approached the doors and opened them to a glittery magical place. The entire bridge sparked like diamonds. It was nothing like the worn appearance on the outside.

I walked the bridge unable to see the outside world since the windows were frosted like a cold winter morning. As I was getting closer to the other end I heard voices. I had no idea anyone actually worked in this other building. I threw the doors open when I reached the end and saw something that I can only describe as magical.

There were people dressed in period clothes that looked to be from the 40s, and they were making candy. It appeared to be the candy we sold in our shop. I always wondered where we got it from. I never saw a delivery truck, and now I knew why.

I walked up to one of the workers and tapped them on the shoulder. He turned around and looked at me and shuddered. He ran and disappeared around the corner. I didn’t know what I had done, and when I looked back, everyone else had disappeared.

I yelled out, “ Why did you go?” but no response. Then a woman approached me.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

She looked so pale, and I said, “I just wanted to see what was on the other side of the bridge.”

She smiled at me and said, “Welcome to 1940, Chris. We are the ones that make the candy.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could she say it was 1940 when it was clearly 2026?

“We were allowed to stay after the fire. The owner of the candy store…,” “Mr. Meyer,” I interjected. “Yes, Mr. Meyer brought us back to continue to make his favorite candies.”

I didn’t know what to think of this, asked her if they liked doing this, and made to stay. She explained they were all very happy to be here and do what they loved, making candy for the children.

I knew I couldn’t stay any longer and told her I needed to get back to my time now. We parted ways, and she smiled as she waved at me, and I saw the busy workers behind her once more.

The next morning, I decided that I would go take one more look at the magical place I saw the night before. When I walked the stairs and saw the doors to the bridge, I was shocked. They were falling apart, and there was a large ‘Keep Out’ sign hanging on it.

I opened the doors to take a look across the bridge and almost took a step when I felt a hand grab me. I looked back and saw Mr. Meyer standing there with a grin on his face.

“You went over there last night, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I was just curious…”

“It’s okay. Margie told me all about your visit. How about we keep what’s on the other side of the street our secret,” he said and winked.

You never know what you might find on the other side of the street.